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LISSOME LOLITAS OR TEENAGE TRASH

Our reporter gets into it.

February 1, 1977
Patrick Goldstein

I was gawking at the gold records draped on the Brother Studio walls, imagining Brian waddling out at 4 a.m. armed with Lysol and a washrag, rubbing the fingerprint smears on "All Summer Long" ("Out damned spot," he grumbles bitterly, "What, will these hands never be clean? Here's the smell of surf still!") when Kim Fowley suddenly loomed into view to make introductions.

"Didn't I meet you during my male

They're puckish and cute today; will they be hustling hash art the strip _ tomorrow? Do you care?

prostitute days?" he deadpans, shaking hands with a grip like a dead trout. Loomed is the word, fans. Why Mel Brooks never cast Kim as Young Frankenstein is beyond me—L.A.'s famed entrepreneur is a dead ringer, built like.the Seattle Space Needle gone amok; long and lanky, ribs poking through his wrinkled Automatic Man t-shirt like gothic struts.

"I've got monoglucotenditis—well, something like that," he confides immediately, "so I have to eat seven meals a day or I become increasingly violent. . ." His jack-o-lantern visage could sink a thousand ships. His more prominent features include hollow cheeks, radium eyes and a waxy, yellow build-up complexion.

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